The Trail West

We just returned from a short trip to Colorado where we visited my sister Mary and her husband John. I have made this trip twice before (Kansas City to Colorado), but both times it was via Route 70, and the experience was similar to that of having a root canal (long and painful), but this time we took the southern route which basically follows the Santa Fe trail with a few variations. Since we had no tight schedule, we pulled off for anything that looked interesting, which is the perfect way to explore.

Our first stop was in the area of the Flint Hills of Kansas and the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve near Strong City, off Rt. 50. These two types of topography seem to contradict each other. On one hand, the tallgrass prairie has grasses whose roots go down nearly 12 feet to reach the water which is under the levels of shale and rock called flint. Much of the flint hills are covered in short grass and make fantastic grazing land for the thousands of cattle who roam here (formerly occupied by buffalo). Some of the land is covered by the prairie grass referred to by settlers as a green ocean with mile long crests of waves. Although its roots can go down 12 feet, its height is to the shoulder of a horse. These grasses held the prairie down even in the greatest drought. Most acreage is now covered with wheat and corn--as far as your eye can see for hundreds of miles. The unusual rain of this spring has produced amazing crops except where the land is too low with little drainage-here the crops rot away.

The funny thing is that you could ride through here thinking that it is a totally boring sight, when all the time the land holds an incredible history of noble families who braved the insufferable heat and constant wind, hacked their way through the tall grass, crossed rivers, buried their loved ones in shallow graves because they couldn't dig through the "flint", and faced native tribes threatened by their presence and willing to defend to the death the very land the settlers would also die for. Add to that the newly established farmers who began to surround their land and protect their cattle by putting up barbed wire fences, thereby aggravating the cattle drivers bringing up thousands of cattle from Texas who needed free- roaming ranges, the cattle barons who would be happy to force you off your land, the wagon trains that wanted to move through to the West, and later the iron horse--the Acheson, Topeka, and the Santa Fe. The territorial wars were fierce. It's no wonder that Kansas provides the setting for the majority of Western and cowboy movies. There were an unlimited number of conflicts to work with and any number of unique characters to plant into the tales of the West.
We even stopped at Dodge City, which we thought would be really corny, but it turned out to be very interesting. They have an amazing little museum, the original "Boot Hill" cemetery, and a "real, live, shootout" between the sheriff and the bad guys. You wouldn't believe who won!

Quick Clips
~ So Sarah Jessica Parker is creating fashion for the common man (woman) now! Is this penance for spending her time and earning a fortune shredding what was left of the fabric of decency for those same families? UGH!
~Our Kansas City Royals have just lately begun to climb out of the pit of defeat, and now the momentum has been stalled by the All-Star games. We still have great hopes for some more great moments, especially with Tony Pena, Jr. , John Buck, and Gil Meche. Despite the KC Star's fickle reporting (accentuate the negative), there have been moments of greatness and the team is maturing. Go Royals!
~ My age is showing! I need a new phone, and that is all I want- no music, no text messageing, no e-mail. The new phones are too complicated for me--and too expensive. I grew up with a phone in a big wooden box on the wall, and when I picked up the earpiece and turned the handle, a real person asked, "Number please?" Our number was 4F23 (line 4, 2 long and 3 short rings-I believe). Occasionally, you could hear a click while you were talking, which meant that someone was listening in and waiting you you to hang up. A private line was too expensive, so the party line was the only choice. You always had the choice of saying, "Excuse me, I am using the line," but you didn't want to be too rude, since the other party lived just down the road and my Aunt Ella was the operator. Talk about surveillance!

Yesterday Bill and I went on an adventure. We weren't sure where we were going, nor what we would find when we got there, or whether it would be worth the trip (and at the price of gas, this is serious!). We got up early, drank our coffee and read the paper, threw some food and drink in the cooler and we were off. Armed with our AAA Guide Book and our book of Kansas City day trips, we were ready. We headed in a northeasterly direction, vaguely looking for a section of Missouri where many Amish live. We had heard of a little town called Jamesport--a place where the Amish sell their baked goods, baskets, furniture, etc., and this became our destination. We barreled through KC noting the numerous building projects going on and the transformation of many of the old factories along the river into lofts and apartment buildings. As we moved north, urban became rural, rolling hills rose before us, meandering streams could be traced by the trees and brush growing beside them. A huge hawk hung in the sky above us and a tiny bird weaved in and out next to him. At first we thought the hawk was stalking him and would destroy him, but as we came nearer, we could see that the tiny bird would fly on this own for a moment and then hitch a ride for just a few seconds on the wigs of the older and larger bird. The huge wing would then toss him back into the air stream and off he would go again, until he tired. Once again the hawk would fly beneath him, give him a rest and then push him away. It was an amazing sight.

We were tucking that experience into our minds when we saw a sign for an historical site at a state park--Watson's Mill State Park. Being suckers for this sort of thing, we swung off the road and followed the winding road throughout the park. Suddenly we saw water. Now coming from Kansas where there are no natural lakes at all, and few of any kind, we were drawn to this one. We drove into a picnic area, got out the food and drinks, sat in the shade where the cool breeze off the lake (it was now 93 degrees) felt delicious. We read our books and listened to the swarms of kids splashing in the water at the beach just a little way down the shore. We saw a perfect place to kayak or canoe. It was sweet.

When we finally dragged ourselves away, we headed for the historical site, which turned out to be one of the many woolen mills which operated here mid-1800's, along with a gorgeous church and plantation house from that period. The mill is the only one with the original machinery still inside. It is a perfect place to see the effect of the industrial revolution on rural midwestern society. Unfortunately, we were late arriving, and we didn't have time to take the tours, but we will return to Watson's Mill--hopefully with with Andrew and Sara and Emma and Lucy in tow.

Then it was back on the road, to find the Amish settlement. To be honest, we had already had enough adventure to have called the day a success. Jamesport, however, was worth the few extra miles. Although there were people here trying to make money off the tourists, the town still had the air of authenticity--to say nothing of the farm air and its familiar smells. There were many original buildings, and lots of quilts, baskets, furniture, and baked good to go around.
We enjoyed our pieces of coconut cream and strawberry rhubarb pie along with some surprisingly delicious coffee. On the way home, we rode behind the black wagons , tried to avoid the piles of manure on the streets, and admired the neat and tidy farms with no electricity (the lines full of clothes blowing in the wind brought back memories of mom).
All in all, it was a delightful adventure, which will, I'm sure lead to many others.